Ursula's Secret

by Mairi Wilson

  “Helen Buchanan,” David continued eventually, his voice now flat and emotionless, “made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with me. No attempt to contact me, even after Cameron was no longer in the picture. I’m merely reciprocating the sentiment.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing! As far as I’m concerned it would have been better if she had died in that mudslide. It certainly would have cost me a good deal less.”

  “But that’s … that’s monstrous! How can you—”

  “Monstrous?” David’s eyes were black. “Oh, I’m not the monster here. Ask yourself what kind of mother abandons her child. Or should I say what kind of mothers – they both did it, after all. Ursula first, then Helen. They both abandoned a child. They both abandoned me.”

  18

  Blantyre Hospital, June 15th

  “How could you, Evie? How could you lie to me?”

  Lexy burst into Evie’s room, stood shaking at her bedside, hands on hips, anger emanating from every pore. “You knew. All the time I was telling you what I thought I’d been so clever finding out, you knew.”

  “I … Lexy, I’m sorry … I … I don’t know what you—”

  “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare deny it. Stop lying to me.”

  “I’m not lying. I didn’t lie.”

  “Don’t nitpick. You didn’t tell me the truth, which is as good as. You let me think I had no family, that my mother was an orphan. All of you. The three bloody witches, fooling the world and denying me my family. How could you!”

  The old woman looked pale and frail against the starched bedlinen. Lexy felt a pang of guilt, but really, how could she not have said anything?

  “What’s going on here?” A nurse had appeared at the door. Lexy spun round and strode over towards her.

  “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” Lexy slammed the door, heard the staccato rhythm of the nurse’s footsteps beating a retreat down the corridor. Lexy leant against the door, breathing heavily as all the anger and pain and loss rose up and focused its intensity on Evie: the only person she could be angry with, could blame for all that she was feeling right now.

  “Why, Evie? Why did you do it? All of it?” Lexy was pacing now, the energy of her anger making her almost manic. She felt she was outside herself, watching this prowling stranger ranging through the room.

  “Lexy. Please. Sit down. Let’s talk about this calmly.”

  Lexy could hear the quiver in Evie’s voice, knew the older woman was shocked by the violence in Lexy’s movements, the rage that was driving her.

  “It was for the best. Really. Lexy, I’m sorry. We—”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? Not half as sorry as I am. Sorry that I’ve spent my whole life not knowing who I am—”

  “That’s enough, Lexy.”

  She hadn’t heard the door or the footsteps behind her and jumped as Robert’s hand gripped her shoulder with surprising force, spun her round to face him.

  “What do you think you’re doing? My grandmother is a very sick woman and—”

  “You! You knew too. You’re just as bad as she is, as all of them!”

  Robert pushed her down into the chair, placed his hands on its arms and leant over her.

  “Enough, Lexy. Enough. If you can’t calm yourself you’re going to have to leave. I will not have my grandmother upset like this.”

  “And what about me? How about how upset I am? Were you ever going to tell me, hmm? Either of you?” Lexy’s head darted from side to side as she tried to look at Evie. Behind her, the old woman began to cough. Robert was at her side immediately.

  “Gran, take it easy. Breathe slowly. Look at me, Gran. That’s it. Gently does it.” Slowly the old woman’s coughing eased. “I think you should go now, Lexy.” Robert didn’t even turn to look at her.

  “I’m sorry I … ,” Lexy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, ashamed of herself, of her tears, but still so angry. She sniffed, breathed deep. “I’m sorry, okay? But this is wrong. What you did is wrong and I need to know—”

  “Just go. Lexy. Can’t you see what you’re doing to her?”

  “But—”

  “Get out!”

  Lexy turned to leave, shame sweeping over her as she cast a backward glance at the frail woman. She knew she had every right to be angry, but she also knew it wasn’t fair to attack Evie like that and to blame her for everything, yet she had. But, if she wanted to find out the rest of the story, the bits David had taunted her with but then refused to explain, she needed Evie and Robert to help her and this wasn’t the way to go about that.

  Restless and furious, Lexy needed to walk, march it off, stamp it out on the paths that wound round the hospital gardens. Realising how ridiculous she would seem to anyone looking out of the windows didn’t make her feel any better, but she couldn’t face her hotel room, and knew, the state she was in, she’d only lose her bearings and probably end up in some slum backstreet in even more trouble than she was right now if she ventured out into the streets outside.

  As she paced through the grounds, oblivious to the glory of the rainbow of blooms all around her, or the welcome shade of the heavy acacia trees, and with even yesterday’s embarrassing debacle with Robert in these very gardens sidelined, she ran over everything David had told her. She was Helen Buchanan’s granddaughter: David Buchanan’s niece, to all intents and purposes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be either of those, knowing what she now did of them. A mean-spirited, bitter, seedy man and a woman who lied to a man she was supposed to love, abandoned the child she’d pretended was hers for years, went on the run and was accused of murder. Had she had a hand in it? The company’s negligence? Had she known? Worse, turned a blind eye to scrimping on safety measures in the interest of profits? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  “Oh!” Lexy stopped short as she remembered Robert’s question that day at the lake. What would she have done, in David’s shoes? He’d known, known that Buchanan’s was rightfully hers, and was testing her, trapping her into all but guaranteeing the compensation—

  But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want anything to do with Buchanan’s and its ill-gotten gains. Tough luck, Robert. Good luck with the crusade. She was so angry.

  Lexy flopped onto a shaded bench, swinging her backpack down from her shoulder. It thudded to the ground at her feet, weighed down by the photo albums. How could she have been so stupid? It was obvious they were family. Once you knew to look at things that way. How much had her mother known? And for how long? Was that why Izzie and Ursula had argued? Had Izzie guessed her parents were anything but the missionaries she’d been told they were? Had she met David when she’d worked out here as a nurse, invited him to her wedding to Philip Shaw? Or had she been as ignorant as Lexy herself back then? Had David watched, stalked her, worried that she might claim her rightful inheritance, take away the company and fortune that defined him?

  More to the point, did Lexy want to do any of that herself, even supposing she could?

  “You’ll never be able to prove it, Lexy. I’ve made sure of that,” he’d said before she left. “And you’ll save us both a lot of aggravation if you don’t even try. Stop asking questions. I’m offering you a generous settlement to get out of my life, out of Malawi, and to go back to being the person you always thought you were. It’s the safe option. Take it.”

  “I don’t want money. I want to know about my family.”

  “I’ve told you as much as you need to know. Believe me, you will regret digging any deeper. I have to live with the consequences of the past, albeit I’m well compensated for it” – he’d indicated the opulent surroundings – “but you’ll just have to take my word that you will not be any happier for knowing the past. Some things are best left buried.”

  “But Evie knows. She could help me—”

  Again he’d laughed in her face. “An old, sick woman? How can she help? Who is ever going to take the word of a deluded, dying woman over the head of the Buchanan empire? Especia
lly when I have taken so much care to erase the evidence. And she wouldn’t anyway. She knows it’s best to let the memory of her friends rest in peace. She will still do anything to protect them, their good name. No, there’s no one left who can help you prove this, Lexy. I’ve made sure of that. And no one left who cares, apart from you. You’re on your own. No one will listen. So be a good girl, and just run on home.”

  Lexy felt her anger growing again. She had every right to know who she was, where she came from, even to be able to call herself a Buchanan, if she wanted to, although she wasn’t sure she did. But she had to know everything to be able to choose whether or not to reclaim her family. More than that, she needed to know, to understand, why her mother had been shipped off to Ursula when she still had a stepbrother, a stepfather in Cameron. Still had a mother. Why hadn’t Helen wanted her daughter? Did that mean she wouldn’t want her granddaughter either? How dare they all conspire to keep the truth, her birthright, from her? None of it made sense. There was something wrong with David’s story.

  She stretched out along the length of the bench, crossed her arms under her head as a pillow and lay back. The branches criss-crossed above her, black lace against the sunlight. Think. She had to think. What was it David knew that made him so sure Evie wouldn’t, couldn’t, help Lexy prove who she was? And why did it matter so much to Lexy anyway? She didn’t want the Buchanan fortune or the company. She’d never been driven by dreams of wealth and riches. She had wanted to believe she had family, to find somewhere to belong. But if David was that family, did she really want to claim kinship? And now that she knew, could she forget all this and go back to being plain old Lexy Shaw?

  No. Not yet, at least. There was still too much that she didn’t know, and she might have just blown her chances of finding it out. She’d been wrong to rush in to confront Evie like that. All she’d succeeded in doing was making Evie ill and alienating Robert. She felt sure he knew more than he was saying, too.

  She sat up abruptly, grabbed her bag and stood. Walk. Keep walking. Burn off some energy until she was calm enough to think things through sensibly. As she turned the corner towards the front of the hospital, she saw a long black car draw up and a chauffeur leap out to open the rear passenger door. Robert appeared from the shadows of the hospital’s entrance and got in. Lexy drew back behind the hibiscus bushes as the car moved forward and slid past. She had a clear view of the other occupant of the car’s rear seat. David Buchanan.

  Interesting, Lexy thought. What was that about? The Blantyre 144 appeal, or something, someone, else?

  19

  The Residence, June 15th

  Two hours later, calmer and clearer about what she had to do, Lexy walked up the steps into the shaded hotel lobby. She still couldn’t face the confines of her room; sitting quietly taking tea on the verandah would be more to her liking.

  “Miss Shaw?’ Barney was running after her. “Miss Shaw, letter for you. Hand-delivered an hour ago.”

  She took the proffered envelope, her eyes immediately drawn to the spindly black letters that spelt out her name in the centre of the cream vellum. The writing looked familiar, or was she just being fanciful? Black ink, again, like the message she’d received on her first night in Malawi, like the notes in the folder she’d found in Robert’s desk. But was it really the same hand?

  “Did you see who delivered it, Barney?”

  “No, Miss Shaw, sorry. I’ve only been on shift for half an hour. You’d have to ask Thomas when he’s back on duty tomorrow.”

  Lexy nodded and handed Barney a coin. “Thanks anyway, Barney.”

  She turned the envelope over in her hand as she walked thoughtfully out onto the verandah, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see the large figure in the winged rattan chair until his words made her lift her head.

  “More billets-doux, Miss Shaw?”

  Pendleton. Her heart sank.

  “Mr Pendleton,” she said. “Good afternoon.”

  He grimaced. “I suppose it’s pointless repeating my suggestion you call me Hugh? No matter. Won’t you join me? I’ve just ordered tea. Or perhaps we’re not really too far from the cocktail hour, if you’d prefer to get started in on the gin?”

  “Thank you, but no. I hope you’ll excuse me, but I have work to do.”

  “Work? Heavens. Thought you were on holiday?”

  “Well, yes, I am.” Why did she feel the need to explain? “But I still have matters to attend to. Administrative tasks and so forth.”

  “Of course. The aftermath of bereavement. I was so very sorry to hear about Miss Reid. And your mother too, of course.”

  Lexy murmured something, but her mind was distracted. How did he know about her mother? Miss Reid, yes, he may well have heard about that. Ursula still had connections in Malawi, after all, but her mother? Lexy was sure she hadn’t mentioned her to him on her first encounter with the unpleasant man.

  “Perhaps I can help?”

  “I’m sorry?” Lexy pulled herself back to the present.

  “With the admin. Boring old stuff isn’t it, but then it’s what we civil servants excel at. Be happy to give you a hand.”

  “Kind of you, of course, but that really won’t be necessary, Mr Pendleton. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must …” Unintentionally, Lexy waved the envelope she still held unopened in her hand.

  “Of course. Mustn’t keep you from your mystery message, must I?”

  “Mr Pendleton, sir?” Barney appeared beside them.

  “What, boy?”

  “Telephone, sir.”

  “Oh for goodness’ sake. Tell them I’m—”

  “Urgent, sir, they said. Consular matters.” Barney flicked a glance at Lexy and she knew instantly he was lying. He was rescuing her. She swallowed a smile as the dapper bellhop bowed and ushered the lumbering frame of Hugh Pendleton ahead of him and out into the lobby, where, Lexy was sure, he’d find his urgent caller had tired of waiting for him to come to the phone.

  She took the opportunity to descend the verandah steps and disappear round the side of the hotel to the further reaches of the grounds, more than a little rattled. The man was not a natural diplomat, that was clear. That offer of helping with her admin had been ridiculous, blatant. But what was it he wanted from her? What was he trying to find out? Was he working for David, somehow? Surely David’s money could buy him a more expert spy than that lumbering oaf.

  When she was sure she was out of sight of the hotel and that Hugh Pendleton had been thrown off her scent, she sat down in one of the pergolas tucked away in quiet corners. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of thin paper.

  Dear Lexy,

  There are things you need to know. Meet me this evening, 7pm, at the old schoolroom in the hospital grounds.

  Robert

  So she hadn’t burnt all her bridges after all. Her conscience squealed, though. She still needed to apologise to Evie. She had behaved crassly, appallingly. Danny said grief had unhinged her and that latest outburst would suggest it had been an accurate description.

  She looked at her watch. Yes. There was time, plenty of time. She’d go back to the hospital and apologise to Evie right now.

  20

  Blantyre Hospital, June 15th

  “You’re quite forgiven, Lexy dear. We’ve hardly been saint-like ourselves in any of this. You must forgive us, I suspect. It’s so hard to know what’s best. Please believe me when I say everything I’ve done has always and only been to help, to protect, those I love. To protect you, Lexy. I am frightened where all this might lead.”

  “I understand that, but I have a right to know who I am. You don’t get to decide who will and who won’t be allowed their birthright. Do you even begin to understand how devastating all of this is for me? I thought losing my mother was bad enough, but now to find out that she lied—”

  “I do wish you’d stop saying everyone’s been lying—”

  “Evie, I don’t want to fight again. But really, what else is it b
ut lying? Whatever the reasons, the end result is the same. The truth was withheld from me, deliberately, and I’ve grown up believing I was one person only to find I’m another. With a family. With a very colourful history.”

  Evie sighed. “Yes. You’re right.”

  “So you have to tell me everything now. You owe me that.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll thank me.”

  “I have a right to make that judgement for myself. Nothing you can say will be worse than anything I’m imagining. The truth, Evie. That’s all I’m asking.”

  The old woman nodded.

  It was late morning, May 1961, Evie remembered. The paper was sitting on the sofa where she’d left it earlier, shocked at what she’d read there, unable to understand why her friend would do such a thing, unsure how to greet her when the housekeeper announced Helen’s arrival.

  “Evie, I know you’re disappointed in me.” Helen had sounded defensive as she swept into the room, getting straight to the point.

  “No, no, of course I’m not.” Evie wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but Helen was her friend, whatever she did.

  “You are.” Helen sighed. “I know you too well – I can tell. You’re trying so hard to be loyal and support me. I don’t know what I would do, would have done, without you, Evie. You and the children, of course.”

  “And Ursula,” Evie added with a smile. “Don’t forget our distant friend.”

  “Oh no. Let’s not forget Ursula.”

  “Helen? That’s a little …”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a … difficult … few weeks.”